2012-08-15, Fenway Park, Boston, MA

Wrecking Ball Tour
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Notes

"Thunder Road" was Bruce and Roy Bittan only. "Prove It All Night" featured the 1978 guitar intro. "Backstreets" had a "Dream Baby Dream" interlude. "Who'll Stop the Rain" was a solo acoustic version. "Quarter to Three" had the "Prisoner of rock 'n' roll" not heard since 1993. Ken Casey from the Dropkick Murphys guests during "American Land".

Eyewitness accounts

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2812
JoanFontaine wrote: Written by one of our members:

"Fire Flies And The Ghost Of My Father At Fenway Park"
by JJK007 on Aug 16, 2012 9:07 pm

I cannot recall the very first time my father took me to my first ball game at Fenway, but I do recall the incredible sensations I felt walking up the ramp and seeing the gorgeous green field, the brown dirt infield and the other features of what John Updike once described as "the little bandbox of a ball park" which I instantly fell in love with.

Growing up just outside Boston, it was a fairly regular thing for my Pop to ask me during supper if I felt like going to see the Sox play. We'd hop in his car and drive 20 minutes from my hometown into the Fens. He'd usually find one of his "secret" spots to park without having to pay and my Dad would take my little hand in his and walk to the park. Later, when I got a little older we'd sometimes jog through those backstreets so we wouldn't miss anything important. My father had a season pass for most of my youth, so we went to quite a few games, typically finding seats somewhere in the grandstand along the first base line, or if it was really crowded we'd stand behind the last row of seats and watch from there. I loved everything about baseball and going to games at Fenway and God only knows how many games I went to, but there were many.

My father was my best friend and my hero and I thought he'd always be around, but life is never quite so easy or kind and my Dad died from lymphoma in 1989. He was only 63 and I still can't forgive the world for cheating him out of a long life. I knew the morning that he died that my world would never again be so sweet and full of joy. I had a hard time at first accepting his departure from this world and I hated going to Fenway without him.

But we all grow up and lose the people we truly love and after a long time, the pain of missing my father began to fade. Lately, thanks mostly to another hero of mine, I've been learning to believe that the people we love never really leave us. Like Bruce Springsteen says so often, we must learn to accept the hard lessons that life teaches us and find joy in the present and the wonders of living "right now."

When I listened to Bruce this week inside Fenway Park talk about living with ghosts, I knew he could have been talking about the people he has lost - his father, Terry McGovern, Danny, Clarence, heck even the late great Johnny Pesky, but when Bruce was talking about ghosts and singing songs like "We Are Alive," I was mostly thinking about my Dad.

And last night during one of the most incredible evenings of my life, Bruce called out during his jaw-dropping rendition of "Frankie," for people to light thousands of tiny lights all over the stands and on the field to create the look of fireflies on a summer's night...and I swear to you that I felt the presence of my father, who I've missed so much over the years and whose absence has made me cry, cry, cry...but he was back with me again, holding my hand and cheering his heart out standing there next to me like a spirit in the night!

And a bit later, with the rain pouring down, and with Bruce Springsteen welcoming the rain again and again to soak his face and baptize him in the spotlight, with a grin from ear to ear, I let it all rain down on me too. And the water from the heavens above Fenway Park mixed with my tears; tears of happiness and tears of joy, as I understood and believed that my father had never really left me alone in this hard and lonely world.

So once again I give thanks to Bruce Springsteen for helping me make sense of this life and for reminding me that I can accept my father and so many other ghosts back into my life and walk with my Pop side by side and talk to him when I need to hear his voice. What a tremendous gift from a man who has spent most of his life trying to help all of us through our lonesome days; who has brought all of us so much happiness; who has always been the older brother that I never had; and who will always be my hero.

There's no way to repay these gifts, other than to give him accolades, constant respect and simply remember to always be grateful. I try to do that by holding my hand up when Bruce offers his, by cheering with every muscle in my body and by believing...always believing...believing...believing that dreams will not be thwarted and that faith will be rewarded.

Thank you Bruce Springsteen for two unforgettable nights at Fenway Park...for filling my eyes with tears and fireflies and for once again filling my heart with hope and a reason to believe.

It's true. There's a new day coming. I will always remain a believer. It's only our bodies that betray us. Our souls and spirits never, ever die.

They are alive.

"So Dad, you wanna go watch a ball game tonight?"

Suzy Peabody wrote: i still haven't recovered from this show. i probably never will. i have the recording, and i seem to only be able to parcel out listening to the songs one by one. i tried to play prove it, while driving, and thought " it's probably not a good idea to be driving and listening to this song at the same time" frankie, a song i didn't know before the show, is the seminal concert experience in my life. i can't bring myself to watch a video, yet, because in my head it's so unbelievably perfect that i don't think the reality of that moment could match it. the cell phones, fireflies, just so crazy perfect. how does he lead us to such beautiful places as a field in 1978? i knew with each song, that i was in a moment that i'd never want to leave. i don't think there will ever be another show like this for me. i never wanted to go to sleep that night, never wanted the night to end.

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